


Light the candle, lift your voice

by Maewn



Series: Beyond the reaches of Sea, Sky and Stars [8]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:47:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21737827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maewn/pseuds/Maewn
Summary: It’s almost Year’s End, which means that more of Auntie Amaya’s and Mom’s friends will be visiting and there will be more presents, but also that more people will want to talk to him, and sometimes Callum just wants to be left alone.A holiday celebration in Katolis, when Callum was much younger.
Series: Beyond the reaches of Sea, Sky and Stars [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1283243
Comments: 9
Kudos: 120





	Light the candle, lift your voice

Callum scoots away from the gift-giving and the prospect of having to wash even more dishes, to look outside at the strange shimmering lights in the sky. The pillows of the window seat are cooler than he’d like but he tugs a nearby blanket over them and settles against the wall to watch the lights.

He’s seen them before, nearly every night since he and Mom had moved north after they’d finished renovating Mom’s old family home.

It’s almost Year’s End, which means that more of Auntie Amaya’s and Mom’s friends will be visiting and there will be more presents, but also that more people will want to talk to him, and sometimes Callum just wants to be left alone.

Mom understands though and often allows him to leave early when the noise gets to be too much.

Callum peers at the lights, pulling out his new sketchbook (a gift from Auntie Amaya), and begins to draw.

It’s sometime later that someone taps his shoulder.

“Wha-?” Callum asks, looking up.

 _Hello._ Auntie signs.

 _Hello,_ Callum signs back.

 _Was it too loud?_ Auntie asks. _You left early._

 _Yes,_ Callum says, with a frown. _And there were lots of people._

Auntie nods. _Sometimes I like to be around less people too. I feel squashed with so many people today; their talk is like scratching in my head. It is very hard to understand what everyone is saying._

Callum nods. Even with Gren, Auntie’s friend who speaks with her voice, sometimes it can be hard to translate everything that everyone says.

Callum looks around, finding Gren by the doorway, silhouetted by the firelight from the next room, a wooden mug in his hand, steam drifting upwards from its contents. Gren waves cheerfully at him and Callum returns the wave.

 _You have been drawing?_ Auntie asks with a smile, tapping the sketchbook.

 _Yes,_ Callum says, grinning back, _I have. Thank you again for the gift!_

 _You are welcome,_ Auntie says. _What have you been drawing lately, Mr. Artist?_

 _The sky lights,_ Callum says, pointing out the window, before looking back at Auntie. _They’re really pretty._

 _They are pretty,_ Auntie agrees and turns, seeming to notice something that Callum has not. _Hello, sister,_ Auntie signs.

Mom is standing in the doorway beside Gren and walks closer, dropping down to next to Callum.

 _Hello,_ Mom signs, and says aloud as she continues to sign. “I’m going to need another hand with the dishes, Callum.”

“Do I have to?” Callum asks.

Mom raises one eyebrow, “Yes. It isn’t fair that Auntie and I do _all_ the dishes, my little star.”

Callum pouts.

“You can come back and finish drawing when we’re done,” Mom says, “I promise.”

Callum sighs. “Okay.”

“Come on, then,” Mom says, patting his back, “the sooner we’re done with the dishes, the sooner you can draw.”

Callum sets his sketchbook down, and follows Mom from the room, Auntie falling in behind. Washing dishes isn’t terrible, he knows, but he’d _much_ rather be drawing.

Still, with three people, the dishes don’t take too long and then he is back at the window seat, sketchbook and pencil in hand.

“Room for one more?” Mom asks after Callum’s filled one page with drawings.

Callum glances up to find Mom with two mugs of hot cocoa.

“Yes,” Callum says, nodding and scooting back so Mom can sit.

“You’ve been busy, I see,” she says, handing him one of the mugs. “Be careful now, it’s hot,” she cautions.

Callum obediently blows on his cocoa; he’s burned his tongue before and hated the numbness for days afterward.

“So, what are they?” Callum asks, sipping at the cocoa slowly. "The lights, I mean."

“Well,” Mom says, “They’re spirit ribbons.”

“Spirit ribbons?” Callum asks.

“Yes,” Mom says, ruffling his hair, grinning at Callum’s scowl.

“Mom,” he complains, “but what are they?”

“Spirit ribbons,” Mom says, “are the souls of those who have died, and in the darkest part of the year, the Goddess Oren and Her six daughters will guide the souls through the night sky so that they might watch over us, and illuminate our way as we travel.”

“So...is Dad up there?” Callum asks. “Watching over us?”

“I think so,” Mom says, looking back to the sky where the ribbons wind through the darkness, radiant colors twisting and almost seeming to dance. “Your father did not follow our faith, but held to his own. But I think...that Oren would be kind and allow him to travel with Her and Her daughters, so that he might watch over us, alongside all of our family who has gone before us.”

“Like you and Auntie’s parents?” Callum asks.

“Yes,” Mom says, “And your grandparents and great-grandparents, all the way back to the beginning of the world.”

“That’s a lot of people,” Callum says.

“It is,” Mom agrees.

“And Dad’s parents too?” Callum asks.

Mom’s smile wavers. “I think so,” she says. “I never met your father’s parents. I never got to know what they would have thought of me.”

“I think they would have liked you,” Callum says fiercely. “You’re smart and pretty and the best mom in the whole world!”

Mom laughs, warm and merry, which is much better than how she had looked moments before, sad and uncertain. “Thank you, Callum. You’re very sweet.”

Callum beams.

“Now drink your cocoa,” Mom says, “and then we’ll go light the candles.”

“Okay!” Callum chirps.

The lighting of the candles is tradition on the nights before Year’s End. White, purple, blue and green candles, all lit in sequence each night until the New Year came and then the gold and silver candles would be lit the entire day, in honor of Jahara and Her gift of life.

Callum finishes his cocoa and Mom takes the empty mug from him. “We can clean them in the morning,” she says with a conspiratorial grin.

Callum grins back. “Okay!”

Mom leads him back into the dining room, where the candles wait in the little alcove before the statue of sleeping Jahara, with Omma as Her ever watchful protector.

Auntie is already there, along with Gren.

“Can I light the candles this year?” Callum asks eagerly. He’s done it before, but with Mom’s guiding hand.

Mom thinks about it for a moment, then nods. “Yes.”

“Awesome!” Callum cheers.

Auntie laughs silently, her shoulders shaking. _He’s got the proper enthusiasm for it,_ she quips.

Mom snorts, signing. _That’s a word for it._

Callum takes the tapered wooden stick used for lighting the candles and turns back to Mom, who is now holding the lit red candle.

All the candles are lit from the fire of the red candle, and if there is no red candle, then they will be lit from the flames of the fireplace.

“Ready?” Mom asks.

“Yes,” Callum says.

“Then, according to our traditions,” Mom says, her voice firm but still kind, “we shall light the candles of Our Lady Jahara, who created the world in which we live, and whose noble Protector Omma watches over Her in Her great Sleep.”

Callum carefully sets the stick into the flame, and lifts it to light the white candle first.

“White for Our Lady’s wish that Her children might live in peace amongst each other,” Mom says.

Callum lights the purple candle.

“Purple for Our Lady’s wish that we might learn from one another, that our hearts would ever be open and kind to those who are our kin and who are not.”

Callum lights the blue candle, trying very hard not to drop the taper which has grown warmer as the flame gnaws at the wood.

“Blue for Our Lady’s wish that we might find healing in our times of need, and that we might find the strength within ourselves to forgive those who have hurt us.”

And last of all, Callum lights the green candle, and for a moment, he can smell the richness of a pine forest held in winter, sharp in his nose.

“And last of all,” Mom says, “we light the green candle, for Our Lady’s wish that we might grow our lives to their fullest, with richness of spirit and generosity towards all.”

“ _Blessed is Our Lady, Jahara, Mother and Warrior,”_ the words swell around Callum, and he gladly joins his voice to the ceremonial words. _“Blessed is Her wife, the Lady Omma, who Protects Our Mother in Her Sleep. May this next year be filled with joys more than sorrows, with beginnings more than endings and may our partings be all the more glad for our reunions.”_

The great swell of sound that follows those last words makes Callum scoot closer to Mom, who takes the stick from his hand and blows out the flame.

“Well done, Callum,” she says, smiling and pressing the red candle into his hands. “Place this before the Lady, please.”

Callum nods, turning and reverently laying the candle before the statue.

Other offerings are laid beside it, berries and small gifts of silks, the special cakes that are inscribed with the holy symbols, and more candles, these ones tiny with their holders bearing names of those who have died.

“Mom,” he whispers as he returns to her side. “Could we light a candle for Dad? I know it wasn’t really his tradition...”

Mom nods. “I think he’d like that. I have the perfect candle in mind for him, Callum.”

She leaves the room briefly, coming back with a tiny lavender candle, that seems to glitter like it is filled with stars.

“I thought Dad’s favorite color was blue?” Callum asks.

“It was,” Mom says, “But he had a cloak that was both blue and purple, and it sparkled like the night sky. I thought it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, aside from him, of course.”

She takes a new taper from the side table and lights it from the red candle, and then gently, delicately, she lights the lavender candle.

“ _May you rest in peace, my love, my star-blessed prince,”_ she says quietly, low enough for only Callum who stands at her side, to hear. _“May you continue to watch over our son as he grows and learns, and protect him where I cannot.”_

Mom takes a deep, shuddering breath, tears glinting at her eyes as she blows out the taper. “Callum, can you place the candle before the Lady?”

“Yes,” Callum says, taking the candle from her hands.

The flame does not waver once as he sets it down beside Jahara’s sleeping face.

 _Please watch over Mom, Dad,_ he prays, closing his eyes. _She misses you too._

There is a warmth in his heart as he opens his eyes again, and a hand touches his shoulder.

“Would you like to hear a story that your father told to me?” Mom asks, pulling him away from the altar.

“Sure,” Callum says.

“It’s a very old story,” Mom says, as they settle on plump cushions before the crackling fire, “a story of the very first New Year celebration...”


End file.
